>Every once in a while, I think it will be a fun thing to have us share personal stories with one another–it helps us to remember that we are all just real moms out there, struggling and moving through humorous, trying, and tender moments on our own. Here’s the topic for today:
What is your worst ever diaper blowout story?
I’ll relay mine to you here in the posts and hope we get a ton of comments back. Let’s face it–these tales were horrific at the time but are some of our funniest tales to recount now that they’re in the distant past. Let’s all have a good chuckle at the universality of this inevitably terrible baby moment 😉
I was home alone with Baby Aurelia, who was about three months old at the time, a preciously tender little bundle that I nearly had attached to me at all times. We were still nursing all the time as she was an exclusively breastfed baby, and we had not yet purchased any nice diapers but were using these homemade hand-me-down flannel fitteds that came from a friend of a friend of mine. Their leg elastics pretty much non-existant from being so ill-fitting and stretched out, they tried my patience but I tried to make do with wrap-style covers to contain those oozy baby poos. We often had leaks, and I scrubbed a lot of yellow stains by hand. Nevertheless, this one blowout moment really takes the cake.
I was sitting on the couch with baby falling asleep across my lap, having just finished nursing. I started to hear and feel a bit of rumbling down there and knew a diaper change was imminent. This would be the first messy diaper change for us in about 8 days as she just was not having soiled diapers all that often (her doctor said this is normal for an EBF baby). In the back of my mind, I knew it would probably be pretty bad, but I could have had no idea. I decided to give it two minutes to make sure she was “finished” before carrying her upstairs to the change table.
About thirty seconds into my waiting period, I began to feel that warm dampness spreading on my thigh and knew that waiting was no longer a viable option. I picked her up and she looked content and very sweet in her cutest ever brand new set of sleepers from Grandma. I held her close against my white t-shirt as we walked up the stairs to the change table. The instant I set her down on the change table, I knew we were in for a doozy. The entire front of my white t-shirt was a yellow smear. More than half of her sleeper set, previously a sweet, soft blue color, was now a funky green. I looked down at my favorite pair of jeans. There were drips of yellow run-off all the way down the leg and onto my sock. I looked back at her, smiling happily on the change table, and stared in shock at her, up and down. The attached foot on one of her sleeper legs was completely, totally filled up with poop. It was sagging like there was a heavy golf ball in the end of the toe! I think I screamed out loud a little–how would I deal with this?
Obviously, everything got stripped off and thrown in a basin for the scrub of its life. Baby got wiped down with about half a pack of wipes before going straight into the bathtub (smiling all the way!). I was stripped down to my bra and underwear by this point too, having started to feel some seepage through my own clothes. It took about half an hour, but I finally got myself, Aurelia, and the change table area cleaned up. Then I went downstairs.
I was horrified to see what I had missed earlier–every second stair of the carpeted staircase I had walked up had drips of yellow leading back to the scene of the crime. I spent a further half an hour scrubbing the carpet free of any remaining mess.
Of course, the minute I was giving my hands their good final rinse, my phone rings. It was my husband, on his coffee break at work. “Hey honey,” he began, “Whatcha up to?”
“You don’t want to know…” I laughed.
We jokingly refer back to that day now as the “poonami” 😉 I just thank my lucky stars that despite everything that happened, at least we were at home!
Please leave your hilariously horrific stories in the comments section as well! 😉